


the human equivalent of a cup of tea.

by cha_lan



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader Insert, Seasonal Affective Disorder, the reader is depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cha_lan/pseuds/cha_lan
Summary: You haven’t had the motivation to get out of bed lately, but a certain boy helps to comfort you during this season particularly colder than others.Alternatively, Minghao is warm when he hugs you and smells faintly of peppermint.If you’re sensitive to stories involving depictions of depression, I do not recommend reading this one as it may be triggering.
Relationships: Xu Ming Hao | The8/Reader
Kudos: 13





	the human equivalent of a cup of tea.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “No, no–it’s alright, come here.”
> 
> Genre: angst to very light fluff, established couple.
> 
> Warnings: descriptions of depression (specifically seasonal affective disorder, but could also describe major depressive disorder).
> 
> *originally posted to my tumblr on 201223

You aren’t feeling like yourself today.

No, that’s an understatement; you don’t remember the last time you felt like yourself.

Hour after hour, the days seem to blend into one collective void. Your brush is saturated in ink, but you don’t have the willpower to continue painting your life. The dot bleeding from the canvas is the most accurate depiction of how you feel inside. Messy, unusual, _abstract_.

But it is more than that.

It has been challenging to get out of bed lately. At least in the summer, you once were met with the sunshine flooding through your curtains. Although now–in the middle of winter–you don’t have the same motivation to push you. The sky is grey on most days, doing nothing to lift your spirits.

You sigh, feeling exhausted despite the full night’s rest from which you awoke only moments ago. You don’t plan on getting out of bed, yet your bladder says otherwise.

You have to drag yourself up and out of your room and to the washroom. When you’re done and washing your hands, reaching for your toothbrush, your gaze meets your reflection. You find it hard to recognize yourself. You’re a shell of what once was; a puffy face from crying and unwashed hair from days ago, not to mention the deep purples blossoming beneath your eyes to complete the look.

You force your gaze away, promptly shutting off the light. You turn down the hall, ready to return to your only place of comfort when you spot a figure sitting at your table. Your heart drops for a second until you take note of the familiar posture.

He always seems to be with a mug, the green one–his favourite.

Minghao is lost in thought. He doesn’t hear you when you approach behind him.

“When did you get here?” Your voice is dry, hoarse from not speaking in hours, possibly also from the crying you did last night.

The boy turns his attention to you, his expression softening as he takes in your figure.

“About an hour ago. I went to check on you, but you were still asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

You hum in acknowledgement, carefully taking a seat next to him.

“How are you feeling today?”

You can’t bear to look at Minghao as he asks you the simple question. You can picture the face he’s making: where he’s looking at you like you’re so fragile you could crumble if he stares too hard.

So you keep your head lowered, eyes trained on the wooden table between you two.

“I’m alright.”

You both know it’s a lie, but you already feel last night’s tears making their way to the surface once more. Those two words are all you can muster as you don’t want to break down again. You don’t want to burden Minghao with that image.

The boy lets out a sigh, not out of annoyance, but because he knows your words lack in truth. He doesn’t call you out for it, knowing that you’ll talk to him if you want to. When you’re ready.

“Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?”

Another simple question, yet it’s enough to make your vision begin to blur. The familiar feeling of holding back your cry burns in your throat. You try to swallow the emotion down, but it’s to no use; it’s only a temporary fix.

“Some tea would be nice. Thank you.” You manage your words as calmly as you can.

Minghao doesn’t hesitate to stand and prepare a cup for you.

You remain where you are, losing yourself in the winter scene displaying itself through the dining room window.

An elderly man walks his dog down the sidewalk: he’s all bundled up, complete with a thick scarf and a knitted hat; the small dog is wearing a similarly knitted sweater. A woman pushing a stroller is heading in the opposite direction. She’s talking on the phone to someone with a cheerful smile decorating her face. You think you can almost hear the sound of her laugh through the glass. You see an airplane overhead leaving a path behind from where it has been.

The sky is blue today.

“Here you go. Careful, it’s hot.”

You thank Minghao for the tea and rest the mug between your hands. Momentarily distracted by the world outside, you’re now brought back to your situation here.

The tea smells of peppermint.

Your eyes are watering again.

You try to blink the tears away, but they are persistent. Your throat is burning once more, and now you can no longer fight it.

“Sorry I-” you let go of the mug and stand from your spot, ready to retreat back to your bed when you hear–

“No, no–it’s alright, come here.”

You halt your movements. You can’t help but sniffle, pressing your palms into your eyes as you try to calm yourself.

Minghao stands and slowly approaches you. Your back is to him, but you can feel him behind you. He places a hand on your shoulder.

And that’s enough to make you properly cry.

“Sorry,” you repeat, but Minghao instead pulls you into his chest. You’re now facing him; his taller frame engulfs your body completely.

He smells of peppermint.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

You cry into his chest. You’re too far gone to stop at this point, just squeezing him back as your sobs shake your body.

“You’re too good for me, Hao,” you whisper, turning your head slightly for your voice to be heard. “You’re too good.”

Minghao says nothing but continues to rub soothing circles onto your back.

“I’ll always be here for you,” with a voice gentle like chamomile tea, he reiterates the sentiment.

And you know he means it wholeheartedly.

Minghao will be there. No matter the season–rain or wind, snow or shine–Minghao is as real in your life as the cup of peppermint tea waiting for you by your window.


End file.
